The Sapphire Affair (Jewel #1)(29)
He broke the kiss for a split second and spoke in a ragged voice, full of lust. “I want to do bad things to you.”
Her eyes lit up. “I like bad things. I want bad things.”
She grabbed him and they kissed more. Harder. Rougher.
He pictured her in bed. Scratching his back. Digging her nails into his flesh. Holding on hard as he took her and f*cked her through multiple toe-curling orgasms before he even allowed one for himself. He wanted to see her spread out, flush with desire, sated with the pleasure that he’d given her. He craved hearing her orgasmic cries and watching her come undone, over and over. He wanted to back her up against that palm tree right now, strip off those bikini bottoms, and explore her legs, taste her sweetness, feel her heat.
But he wanted to know her goddamn name, too. Not just how she felt coming undone.
Somehow, he managed to untangle himself from her. They were both panting. Her eyes were glossy with desire. He was sure his hair was a wild mess from her hands in it. He was equally sure he liked her hands in his hair.
He exhaled deeply and rubbed a hand across his jaw, trying to reset his mind. He clasped his hands together. “So now that I’ve nearly ripped off your clothes on the beach and had my tongue down your throat in a bar, perhaps you could tell me your real name.”
“You don’t think it’s Ariel?” she asked coyly, her lips curving into a naughty grin.
“No,” he said as she bent down for her dress and tugged it over her head. Turned out covering up didn’t do much for his desire to have his hands all over her body. He still wanted her just as badly. Against his better judgment. “I’m pretty sure it’s not Ariel. I’d love to know what it really is.”
Or what new fake name you’ll give me.
“Well, it does seem you’ve passed enough tests now to earn the name.”
“Ah, so you have been testing me?”
She laughed and nodded. “I’m a twenty-eight-year-old woman living in a world where anyone gets burned online. You’re a man with one name only who I met on an island. I’m not stupid. I’m also not Ariel, but my business is actually called Ariel’s Island Eco-Adventure Tours. I run a tour business in the Caribbean,” she said, and something about her job sounded vaguely familiar. It tickled his brain, nagging away at him. “I studied marine biology in college so I could lead dives and snorkel trips. I live in Miami, but I’ve been rebuilding my business here and in other places. I’m Steph Anderson and it is a pleasure to officially meet you.”
He nearly stumbled. His jaw almost dropped. His eyes practically popped out of his head. But he fought back all those natural reactions because he didn’t want to let on that he knew the name Steph, since he’d looked up the names of Eli’s family before he arrived.
Including his stepchildren.
She stared at him. Then made a rolling gesture with her hand. “Your turn.”
“Jake Harlowe,” he said, and his voice sounded funny to him. Rougher than usual, etched with surprise that he needed to cover up. He spoke quickly. “Former army intelligence. Now I run a recovery business in Key Largo.”
She grinned widely. “You’re not far away from me.”
“No. I’m not at all,” he said crisply. He didn’t want to get into the implications of hometown proximity. “Let’s get you lunch.”
“What’s a recovery business?” she asked as they walked across the sand to the winding path along the beach. “Like information recovery? With computers?”
“Sort of. My job’s woefully dull,” he said, though that couldn’t be further from the truth. “Tell me more about marine biology. That’s fascinating. I’ve never met a marine biologist. That’s the profession career counselors use when they go to schools and give gung-ho pep talks about all the vast possibilities of future jobs. When they cite interesting, cool, or unusual careers, marine biologist is up there with archaeologist.”
“That’s a conspiracy, actually, among marine biologists and archaeologists. To make sure we all seem super cool.”
He laughed, wishing he didn’t enjoy her company so much. He reminded himself that this lunch date wasn’t a date. It was a mission. He was infiltrating the target.
That was all.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A gull squawked as it swooped past the outside of the Coconut Iguana, hunting for leftovers.
The bird wouldn’t find many at Steph’s table. Only one tortilla was left on her plate and Jake had finished his tacos, declaring them some of the best he’d ever had. The meal had been fantastic, the view of the water even better, but the company was the best part. After that searing kiss—a full-body kiss if there ever was one—they’d settled into a late lunch and good conversation.
“See! I told you the fish tacos were yummy. My friend Sandy manages this place, and she told me the reason they taste so good is because of the coconut.”
“Coconut in the fish tacos?” he said, and he clucked his tongue and nodded. “Come to think of it, they did taste like coconut. And hey, better than coconut water.”
“Isn’t it weird that coconuts can be so delish but coconut water isn’t? And truth be told, I didn’t eat much this morning when I went out because I knew I wanted you to take me here.”